1993
Kirsty and Mark were having a wonderful time. True to fairground cliché #1, Mark had won her a big, ugly soft toy, which she was clutching to her chest. They’d also had candy floss: fairground cliché #2. And he’d whacked the big weight thing with a mallet and made it go ding-dong: fairground cliché #3. And now, yes, right on target, just when Gray had begun to think it wasn’t going to happen, they had emerged from the Tunnel of Love with their mouths attached. Full house.
Gray could barely stomach it.
It was half past nine. The sky was indigo with some lingering streaks of lilac. His sister was kissing a man. He was torn between going home and telling his mum and dad what was going on and not wanting to leave this spot in case something bad happened. And what, he wondered, did he mean by bad? He couldn’t quite put the feeling into words, but it was there, like a lump in his throat. It wasn’t just that he couldn’t handle the prospect of his sister falling in love, of his sister having sex, of his sister growing up. It was more than that. It was darker than that. It was him. Mark. There was just something off about him. Something shadowy and cruel. There were too many angles in his face. Too much thought behind each gesture, each word, each action. Even his hair colour was too uniform, Gray felt, as though he could tug at it and Mark’s whole face would come off to reveal his true identity, like a Scooby Doo villain.
He watched them climb out of the Tunnel of Love carriage and now they walked hand in hand, the ugly toy under Mark’s arm. What would they do now? Gray wondered. They’d done the fair. Kirsty was too young to take to the pub. It was dark. They sauntered towards the exit; Mark threw back his head to laugh uproariously at something Kirsty had said. Gray couldn’t imagine what. And then he watched with a growing sense of unease as Mark led Kirsty away from town and towards the sea. He slid down from the shelf he’d been sitting on and followed them. The lights from town barely shone here, and the music from the steam fair was a distant, slightly eerie murmur. All that lit the way was the creamy moon. Gray held back inside the silvery shadows and tried to hear what they were saying, but the smack and fizz of the tide against the sand muffled their voices. Eventually they stopped walking, silhouetted by the moon hanging dead centre between them, and Gray watched with horror as they turned to face each other and began to kiss, at first tenderly and then with increased fervour. He turned his head slightly not wanting to watch but also not wanting to stop watching in case he missed the moment that Mark did something to hurt his sister.
But a few minutes later, Mark pulled away from Kirsty, cupped her face with his hands, kissed the end of her nose and they both turned. ‘Come on,’ Gray heard him say, ‘it’s getting late. I should get you home.’
Gray was home ten minutes before Kirsty, slightly breathless from running the whole way.
‘Where’ve you been?’ said his mum, looking up from a thick second-hand novel with yellowed pages.
‘Nowhere,’ he said. ‘Just walking.’
‘Nice dinner, wasn’t it?’
‘It was all right.’
‘And funny bumping into Mark. Of all people.’
‘That wasn’t a coincidence, Mum.’
‘What do you mean? ’Course it was.’
Gray rolled his eyes at her naïvety. ‘Don’t you mind?’
‘Mind what?’
‘Kirsty. Going off with him. When he’s so much older.’
‘Oh, come on. He’s only nineteen. I had a twenty-year-old boyfriend when I was Kirsty’s age.’
‘Yes. But we don’t know him.’
‘We’ve been to his house, Graham! We’ve met his aunty! That’s more than most parents get when their child starts a relationship.’
Relationship?
His mum checked her wristwatch and as she did so there was the sound of laughter outside the front door and the clatter of the letterbox being opened and shut and Gray’s dad came to the door and there were Kirsty and Mark and the ugly bear.
‘Come in! Come in!’ said Tony.
Mark looked curiously around the house. ‘Would you mind?’ he asked. ‘I’ve walked past these little houses so many times and I’ve never been inside one.’
‘Of course not!’ Tony held the door wider and gestured Mark inside. ‘Please.’
‘Wow,’ said Mark, ‘it’s like a dolls’ house! So tiny!’
‘Well,’ said Tony, ‘they built these houses for tiny people. You know, back in the sixteen hundreds, when this place was built, we’d all have been giants!’
Mark bowed his head to go from room to room. Gray watched him curiously. Then he turned and glanced at Kirsty. Her face was pink and pinched with what looked like embarrassment.
‘And up here?’ Mark asked, peering up the staircase.
‘Bedrooms,’ said Tony. ‘Want to see?’
Mark turned and smiled. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I get the idea.’
‘Can I get you a beer? Or something?’
‘No.’ Mark looked at his watch. ‘Thank you. I’d better get back. Promised Kitty I’d clean up the kitchen after dinner. Didn’t even tell her I was going out!’ He laughed, a hard bark that seemed somehow unrelated to him. ‘But maybe I’ll see you on the beach tomorrow? Forecast looks good.’
‘Maybe not tomorrow,’ said Tony. ‘We were thinking of a day trip.’
Mark’s expression blackened for a second and clouds of displeasure passed across his eyes. But then he rallied and said, ‘Oh! Great! Where are you going?’
‘Not sure yet. Maybe Robin’s Hood Bay. Maybe a castle. See how we feel.’
Mark shrugged, sighing. ‘Ah, well. Maybe another time then.’
‘Yes,’ said Tony, ‘more than likely. You all right getting back up there?’ He gestured towards the big house on the coastal path. ‘I can give you a lift?’
‘Tony,’ said Mum. ‘You probably shouldn’t. You’ve had a couple of beers.’
‘Oh, don’t be so daft. I had two halves. Two hours ago.’
‘Honestly. I can walk. I’ve done it a million times. In all weathers. At all times. But thank you. You’re very nice people.’
He left a moment later in a flurry of good manners and cheek kisses, leaving them once again windswept and unsettled in his wake.
‘So,’ Gray asked his sister over bowls of Frosties the following morning. ‘What did you talk about all night? You and Mark?’
‘Why do you say his name like it’s made up?’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. He just feels like he’s made up. Like he’s working from a script.’
She frowned at him. ‘What on earth are you talking about, you weirdo?’
‘Never mind,’ he said, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to explain it. ‘Anyway, what did you talk about?’
‘Not much,’ she said. ‘Just about school and family and stuff.’
‘Do you still like him?’
She flushed with colour and stared into her cereal bowl. ‘Maybe. He’s all right.’
‘You don’t have to see him again, you know. You can say no, if he asks.’
‘Yeah, well, he probably won’t. So.’
‘Did anything happen?’ he asked, curious to see if she would lie to him. ‘You know, like kissing or anything?’
‘What’s that got to do with you?’ she snapped.
‘I’m your brother,’ he replied with more force than he’d intended.
‘I’m your brother,’ she echoed him mockingly, using a deep voice and rolling her shoulders. She laughed.
‘Yeah. Well. I just don’t want you to do anything stupid.’
She rolled her eyes and got to her feet. ‘You’re just jealous,’ she said. ‘Because I’ve kissed someone and you haven’t.’
It was a light-hearted dig. She hadn’t meant it to hurt. But it did. Gray had no idea why he hadn’t kissed a girl yet, given how much time he spent with girls. He’d had lots of those Hollywood moments when it had looked as though he was about to kiss a girl but then they’d turn away or someone would walk in or he’d lose his nerve and make a joke out of it. And there were girls who liked him, he knew that. People told him. But it was always girls he didn’t fancy. Sad, doughy-cheeked girls making desperate eye contact across the lunch hall.
He’d hugged girls and had girls sitting on his lap. He’d held hands with girls and kissed girls’ cheeks and had fun with girls and gossiped with girls and had girls on the back of his bicycle. But for some reason he couldn’t cross the line into physical intimacy. He would wonder if he was gay if it weren’t for the fact that he knew resoundingly that he wasn’t.
‘Get stuffed,’ he said to his sister’s retreating back. ‘What do you know?’
She ignored him and walked away.
Mark was sitting outside Rabbit Cottage when they got back from visiting Sledmere House six hours later. He’d positioned himself sideways on the sea wall opposite, turned towards the late-afternoon sun, in a crisp white shirt and faded jeans. He was holding a bunch of pink roses.
Gray noticed Kirsty stiffen slightly at the sight of him.
‘Good timing,’ said Mark, sauntering towards them, ‘I just got here.’
‘Well,’ said Tony, ‘that’s a bit of luck.’
‘Here.’ Mark passed the pink roses to Kirsty. ‘For your room. To brighten it up a bit.’
‘Oh,’ she said self-consciously. ‘Thank you.’
There was an awkward silence, the sort of conversational void that needed to be filled with an invitation to come in. But nobody offered it.
‘Did you have a nice day?’ Mark asked.
‘Super,’ said Tony. ‘Been a hundred times before, but it’s always a good day out.’
‘I’ve never been,’ said Mark in a tone that suggested he wouldn’t dream of it.
‘So,’ said Pam, ‘what have you been up to? Been to the beach?’
Mark shook his head. ‘Not today. No.’
His usual effortless charm seemed to have deserted him. Kirsty’s body language was all wrong and he could tell.
Gray turned and headed to the front door of Rabbit Cottage. He felt very strongly that for some unknown reason his sister wanted to be rescued from this situation and that he needed to be the one to do it. ‘Keys, Dad,’ he called to his father.
Tony passed him the keys and smiled at Mark. ‘Well, maybe see you on the beach again?’
Mark looked at Kirsty who was heading away from him with her pink roses. ‘I wondered . . .’ he said. ‘Kirsty, would you like to join me to see a film? Tonight?’
Kirsty looked at her parents beseechingly. But his mum missed the nuance and said, ‘Well, I don’t see why not. We haven’t got anything planned for tonight.’
‘Great,’ said Mark, all the uncertainty disappearing and his usual carapace of self-assurance re-forming. ‘I’ll come at seven. If that’s OK?’
‘Yeah,’ said Kirsty, her gaze on the floor. ‘Sure. See you then.’